Davina Does Easter

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32



This is going to be a short intro because by now you either know me or you don’t. I’m twenty-six, a devout lesbian and I have a penchant for beautiful girls. By that I mean my ugly mug attracts a lot of stunners and I’m never capable of saying “no”.

Well I wouldn’t be, would I?

Okay. So last time I left you rather abruptly, halfway through a sexual extravaganza of a weekend. In fact I was spending Saturday afternoon in the Hottest Girl at School’s bed, making her cum and cum and cum.

Hard work I know, but somebody had to do it!

I won’t waste time with any more background. Let’s just say that, as an eighteen-year-old in late 2008, I was developing a taste for “different” and “new” . . . or, in other words, “the more the merrier”.

And let’s also get back to me and Lorna, picking up somewhere between two and three hours after we’d kicked off . . .

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Me being a lifelong IT nerd, it feels odd when I take a break without being aware of the exact time. I live by the display to the bottom right of my screen. Right then (fresh from a sexual haze) I was lost. Was it nearer four pm or five? How many minutes did I have to get home, showered and changed and back out again? And would I have the seconds to spare to eat “tea”?

Come to that, would there be anything for me to eat? Mum had had reservations about her only child going rock climbing in torrential rain, expressing concern about the risk of broken necks. She’d clearly thought I would end up eating all my future meals through an NG tube. Would she have bothered to prepare enough food for stubborn old me?

Lorna’s hand pulled me out of my reverie, landing on my thigh nice and high up, close to my groin.

I chuckled, glad she’d last done something apart for moan, groan and orgasm. Not that I’m knocking her in any way. Making her moan, groan and orgasm had been a simply massive turn on. I wouldn’t really have minded carrying on like that forever.

Well, not much, anyway. Still, having her touching me even innocuously was great.

‘Mmmm,’ I went. ‘Keep going.’

Lorna’s hand brushed my swollen lips, light as a butterfly’s wings, and she echoed my chuckle.

‘How much will you tell Sara?’

‘Eh?’ I replied, oh-so articulately.

‘About this afternoon, I mean. Do you really tell her everything you get up to?’

‘We’re grown women and jealousy-free,’ I replied with the sincerity of a girl who had never been badly let down (not yet!). ‘But we don’t tittle-tattle. What I do without her is my business. So is whatever she does with Ray. Not that I want to know what she gets up to with him. Or what you do with Steve, for that matter.’

‘Steve’s probably not so jealousy-free,’ Lorna said. ‘And he fancies you. Don’t get me wrong; inside his head he’s a liberated man. In his heart he’s a Neanderthal.’

‘Neanderthal’s were relatively civilized,’ I said automatically. ‘They just get bad press.’ Then, frowning: ‘What was that about Steve fancying me?’

‘He’s like his mates. The whole rugby team wants to get into your knickers. They’re all scared though. None of them want to be the first to get shot down in flames.’

I mused on that a moment. ‘I must be at the back their queue,’ I said finally.

‘You’re ahead of most of us,’ said Lorna. ‘Trust me, Dave; you have a lot of men’s hands moving very rapidly every night.’

My retching sounds weren’t entirely faked. ‘Please,’ I said, ‘I’m nobody’s dream girl. And that imagery is making me sick.’

‘Welcome to the club.’ She laughed. ‘What about Ellie? What do you tell her?’

‘I tell her even less than I tell Sara. And believe you me, Ellie’s hard work. When it comes to prying for information, she got kicked out of the Gestapo ages ago. For excess cruelty, I believe.’

‘But you can deal with her?’

Lorna’s hand had moved higher; it was cupping my pussy now, not actually doing anything apart from being warm and cosy.

‘Yeah,’ I gasped, ‘I can deal with both of them.’

‘Good,’ said Lorna, beginning to rub.


I declined the offer of a shared shower because somehow it had got to five twenty-five.

‘Let’s keep us secret,’ Lorna said before unlocking her front door. ‘I’m not ashamed or anything, but I want an easy life. And I want us to keep sneaking around. It adds an edge, don’t you think?’

‘You want to do this again?’ I queried, a little surprised, enormously gratified.

‘You bet I do. I’m missing you already.’

Logical Dave muttered something about flings supposed to be one-offs. I ignored her.

What did she know!

‘As long as you’re jealousy-free I’m your gal,’ I told Lorna, smiling into her eyes.

She beamed right back at me. ‘Jealousy-free and sneakily surreptitious,’ she said. ‘And what Steve doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?’

‘Yes, but he’ll find out one day. Somebody will twig and he’ll be the next to know.’

‘That possibility will add to the edge,’ she said, grinning ever-wider.

‘Seeing you naked is edge enough for me,’ I said as convincingly as possible. casino şirketleri ‘But I do know where you’re coming from. As long as you’re sure he won’t react too badly when he does cotton on.’

‘He’d die before he even shouted at a woman, so I’ve nothing to fear. And neither have you. It’s me he’ll be jealous of. You’ll just seem more desirable.’

‘I wish,’ said I. ‘Er . . . when’s the next slot in your diary?’

‘My parents visit Sheffield every third or fourth weekend. And Steve has rugby all day Saturday at this time of year.’

‘Every three or four weeks it is then.’ I offered her my fist.

‘You betcha,’ she agreed, bumping it.


My visit home was, to say the least, a flying one. My hair wet from the latest heavy fall of rain, I arrived in a flurry and shot up to the bathroom before I could be interrogated. Then, showered and dressed in my usual Saturday night clobber, I called in to the kitchen.

‘Home-made corned beef, potato and onion pie,’ Mum announced (as if the delicious aromas could’ve been missed!). ‘Have you time to wash it down with wine?’

I had.

‘No fatal falls then?’ Mum asked as I tucked in.

‘Oh,’ said I, borrowing a tactic from Margaret Thatcher and disregarding the question altogether. ‘Kelly is calling round tomorrow. I’m helping her with some IT.’

(Please note: I was actually making sure Kelly got some IT coursework finished; coursework that only I didn’t seem to be losing sleep over. It was my way of paying her for being my alibi. As it counted for Kelly’s A-level, Mum would have called that sort of help “cheating” so I didn’t go into the nitty-gritty.)

‘Is she the . . . ah, mannish one?’ Mum persisted.

‘She has the same tastes as me,’ I said patiently. ‘But we’re not an item or anything. We’re just doing some work together on . . .’

Mum listened for maybe a minute before holding up her hand.

‘Whoa, enough! You lost me at the first NAND gate. You do whatever it is you have to do. At least it’ll keep you out of the pub.’

‘We won’t be at it long,’ said I. ‘I’ll soon explain the bits she doesn’t properly understand. Then we’ll probably get out of your hair and go for a drink.’

Mum sipped wine and tried not to smile. ‘You and your love of alcohol! I honestly don’t know where you get it from.’

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Because my mum had old-fashioned values (like believing in love with – and faithful to – one person at a time), I had arranged to meet Meryl outside the Spar, taking care to keep out of direct line of sight of any of the night staff. I got there at 6:28, two minutes early. Meryl arrived at six-thirty precisely but, as she was in a fancy SUV, it took me a moment to realize it was her.

(Confession: I was under the impression her mum was a single parent and had expected something less flashy, like the aging Mini my own mum ran around in. Meryl’s Discovery still couldn’t be due its first MOT. It wasn’t brand-spanking-new but it was seriously impressive.)

No. it was awesome!

‘Wow,’ I said as she leant over and opened the passenger-side door. ‘Ace wheels!’

‘Ace you,’ she countered, kissing me quickly before pulling back, waiting for me to belt myself in. ‘So where to?’

‘I’m supposed to be taking you out,’ I protested.

‘Consider me to be the chauffer then. Is Dick’s all right?’

Ralph’s party was in Morton Institute (again!). Dick’s was on the way, assuming we went via the more scenic route so I said yes, it would do for me.

Seeming very proficient in the driving seat, Meryl indicated to move out.


The pub was an ivy-covered building on the fringes of the moor, miles from anywhere but very, very popular. Back in the day it had catered for packhorses, stagecoaches and the likes. Judging from the vehicles on its car park it now mostly catered for yuppies in Mercs and BMWs. Meryl’s (mum’s) motor didn’t look at all out of place.

Unlike us when we went inside.

Early evening and Dick’s was rammed with well-dressed folk, most of them already dining or about to dine. Not that you should be thinking ball gowns and tuxedos; it was very much smart/casual with few ties to be seen and no dicky-bows at all.

Dozens of eyes fixed on us as we approached the bar. I’d like to think that my Saturday night clobber passed muster. My blue jeans were as smart as anyone else’s, my sweatshirt was a fetching if rather pale yellow and my short leather jacket was practically unbroken-in

Meryl was dressed as per Friday, minus the cape. Her F-me boots and half-unbuttoned waistcoat were black and her tight jeans were blue-verging-on-black. The only real difference in her that night was the choice of lippy: dark purple instead of blood-red.

She looked hot, though. Posh women were snarling as their partners visually gobbled her up.

The bits of her I hadn’t already mentally devoured!

I grinned at Meryl as we waited to be served. No doubt about it, she loved the attention, and why not? At eighteen we were significantly younger than those well-dressed diners. It was our obligation casino firmaları to look rebellious, wasn’t it?

So what if most of the hen-pecked hubbies were ogling my girlfriend’s lovely little, half-exposed tits? Ogling was as close as they were going to get.

Me? I had my plans.

And dirty ones at that!

‘What are you having?’ I asked her.

‘Britvic orange and lemonade,’ she replied, somewhat shattering her rebellious image.

The nearest barman sprang into action, not waiting for me to confirm the order. In a matter of seconds a well-presented glass was on the bar before us, filled with juice, ice and a slice.

‘And you, sir?’ he said to me.

I stared at him, for once taken aback.

‘A pint of Black Sheep,’ said Meryl, squeezing my bum, signalling me to keep cool.

I think.

I thrust a tenner at the frigging bar steward without speaking then, acting like the guy he took me to be, I crammed my unchecked change into the front pocket of my jeans.

Asshole, I thought, quite viciously.

Meryl led me to one of the few free tables; it was by a large window that faced south, downhill and towards Bingley.

‘The views are wonderful from here in summer,’ she said.

I laughed shortly, still peeved with the barman.

‘Did you hear what he said to me,’ I asked indignantly, ‘that flipping bar steward!’

‘He’s visually challenged, obviously.’ Meryl’s laugh had much more humour in it than mine.

‘Here,’ I said, momentarily taking off my supersized specs. ‘I’ll give him these.’

‘Don’t,’ said Meryl, ‘you wouldn’t be the same without them.’

I shook my head, clearing it, reminding myself my date was probably nervous and I had no right to be sniffy.

Pull yourself together, Logical Dave recommended. Forget it ever happened. And don’t be a grouch. It wasn’t exactly the first time, was it?

‘Not much of a view tonight,’ I said aloud, nodding at the window which was still rain-lashed from one recent downpour or another.

‘It is December,’ Meryl replied. ‘It’s been dark for hours.’

‘The view across this table is much better,’ I countered, sincerely if a bit gushy and predictable.

‘Did you notice the back of the Disco?’

‘Eh?’ said I, thrown by the abrupt change of tack.

‘The Discovery. I’ve put the rear seats down. We’ll have plenty of room later. Clever me, eh?’

‘Clever you,’ I agreed, amazed as ever by her bluntness but excited too. The idea of “plenty of room” equated to “plenty of fun”, and I was up for that.

Wasn’t I just!

‘I have a surprise for you,’ she added.

‘Great. What is it?’

‘It’s a surprise, so wait and see.’

‘Have you been driving long?’ I wondered, speaking to break the ensuing silence as much as wanting to know.

‘Almost a year.’

‘You must have learnt fast.’

‘I did. Mum got me lessons for my seventeenth. I had them in a crash course.’

‘I sincerely hope we won’t be crashing tonight.’

‘We’ll be crashing about in the back,’ she said, missing my (admittedly feeble) joke altogether. ‘And I won’t be drinking. I promised Mum I would never drink and drive and I never will.’

‘What does your mum do?’ I enquired, curious.

‘She manages a big office in Bradford. She’s worked there ever since I first went to school, getting one promotion after another. She never has any time off. Well, she did have a week when Dad died, when I was seven.’

Oh bother! I hadn’t seen that coming. I’d assumed “Dad” was an absentee, not in a grave.

‘It was an industrial accident,’ Meryl said matter-of-factly, ‘in a foundry in Keighley. Mum got a mega payout from their insurers. After a bit of a wait, naturally.’

‘Has she been on her own ever after?’

‘Apart from me, you mean?’

I nodded and said nothing, afraid of putting my foot in it yet again.

‘Aunt Doreen lived with us for years,’ Meryl went on. ‘Of course she wasn’t really my aunt; really she was the woman who shared Mum’s bed. Then she got breast cancer and it simply wouldn’t go away. She died the summer before last. Since then there’s just been the two of us.’

I swallowed a lump in my throat. My own home life (safe, secure and with only the danger of being suffocated by love) suddenly seemed unfair. Anger raged inside my head. Ellie had better not call Meryl “Miserable” ever again; not unless she wanted a punch on the nose.

Or maybe a head-butt.

‘Are you ready for another pint?’ Meryl was on her feet.

‘Hey, I’m taking you out. I’m buying.

‘Let me get this round,’ she said. ‘That bar steward of a barman keeps looking our way. He fancies one of us; I want to see which one. I’m betting he’s gay . . .’

My God, I thought as she went back to the bar, taking a lot of male attention with her, she was ribbing me! And she was almost subtle with it!!

Draining the last of my pint I (literally) licked my lips. There was more to the girl than I’d credited.

A whole lot more.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Meryl had indeed lowered the back seats in her mum’s Disco . güvenilir casino . . both rows of them.

‘There’s enough room for a ten-girl orgy,’ I said as she pulled up just short of Morton Institute.

‘Two will do for now,’ she said. ‘If you can get another eight interested parties we can try it some other night.’

I wasn’t sure how serious she was but chuckled anyway. ‘Call me old-fashioned, but I’ll be happy with just you.’

‘Correct answer!’

We’d stopped up in an approved (I hoped!) parking area outside a terrace of houses. Meryl proved she was at least slightly nervy by asking me about our invite.

‘No worries,’ I replied. ‘There won’t be bouncers or girls behind reception desks at a place like this. There never is. We’ll just walk straight in.’

‘Are you saying you haven’t brought it with you?’

I laughed out loud at that. I’d checked the invitation that morning. It was addressed only to “Dave”. But the ink was easily matched. The card tucked in my wallet now read “Dave and guest”.

‘I’ve got it but like I said, we won’t need it,’ I assured her.

‘Let’s go then.’ She clasped my hand. ”If all’s well and I’m not going to be kicked out on my ass. . .’


I was right about the lack of bouncers, and the closest to “reception” was a pair of forty-something women sipping from outsized wine glasses. I guessed they were Ralph’s mum and her backup but never got to find out which was which. They never got to find out who we were either. They just met us with smiles and pointed the way to the bar.

Not that I didn’t already know!

As eighteenths go that was a good ‘un. None of my friends could have been accused of shunning my date as an outcast and a lot of them were drooling over her. Take Ellie, for example. She cornered me on my way out of the ladies’.

‘Is she fit our what’ she exclaimed. ‘Give her to me when you’re done. I have sooooo many tricks in store for her.’

‘I thought you had tricks in store for me.’ I replied, somewhat awkwardly.

‘I have, but tonight I’m seeing Meryl in a whole new light. I really, really want to screw her.

‘Honestly and truthfully?’

‘So much so it hurts,’ Ellie admitted. ‘I want her nearly as much as I want you.’

We stared at each other a while. I didn’t actually love Ellie (not in the depths of my brain), but I did like her a lot more than I let on.

Cards on the table: I keep maintaining I’ve had three true loves but Ellie could have made it a top four. Half a sincere gesture and I’d have wilted like a reed in a storm.

That was her big chance but, sadly, she had different ideas.

‘Next Friday,’ she began, ‘my old folk are away again. Are you up for as much as you can take?’

Ten out of ten for guessing my answer and “no” doesn’t come in to the frame.

Not even close.


As I mentioned a moment ago, all my friends went out of their way to be nice to Meryl. Sara said she looked “super smashing” and Jacqui and Roberta were particularly attentive.

Especially Roberta.

I chuckled at that. Roberta was one of the sexiest girls ever; she made your average beauty queen look like a shrivelled old glove. There wasn’t a guy in school who’d ever turn her down. And there wasn’t a guy in school who wasn’t envious of Jacqui for winning her heart.

Straight up honest, Roberta was seriously fit. I regularly jacked thinking about her. I know that’s a terrible thing to admit but it’s the truth. I used mental images of her while bringing myself off. And it was one hundred per cent sexual: I didn’t waste time conjuring up fanciful love stories and airy-fairy things like that. When I pictured her it was for one end only. I neither needed nor wanted anything short of release.

Yes, I accept I was objectifying her, but is it really only men who commit that crime? How many of us genuinely qualify to cast that first stone?

Anyhow I did it quite often and I did it thinking about other girls too. Burn me at the stake if you have to; I’m not going to lie and pretend it never happened.

So, where was I? Oh yes, drooling over Roberta. Now, if I had one reservation about her it was that she could be a bit aloof. It was nothing extreme, please understand, but (Christmas kissing aside!) she did occasionally seem remote.

That said, she wasn’t aloof on the night of Ralph’s party; not when it came to Meryl. Her attraction to the girl was as obvious as it was instantaneous. Jacqui kept trying to join in their (rather one-sided) conversation but Roberta rolled right over her attempts.

Amused as I was, I kept an eye on Meryl. It was hard to believe she wasn’t flattered by the attention but even harder to read her thoughts. She might feel reciprocal or she might not. For all I knew she could have been scoffing inside at the two-faced cow who suddenly wanted to befriend her.

By that I mean Roberta, not me!

Lorna caught up with me in the toilets (the ladies’ being my second home for the early part of that evening; I’d switched to wine but those three pints in Dick’s kept nagging at me).

‘How unpredictable are you!’ she began.

I had considered telling Lorna about my date with Meryl during our afternoon in bed but I’d chickened. Now, caught red-handed, I shrugged apologetically. ‘Sorry,’ I began. ‘I forgot to let you know.’

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

İlk yorum yapan olun

Bir yanıt bırakın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.